


Fantastically Boring

by constructedmadness (dragonsquill)



Series: A Series of Missions, McKirk Style [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/pseuds/constructedmadness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The number one entertainment aboard a starship is gossip. In their first months together after the Narada, the number one topic of gossip is the surprise marriage of the ship's captain to her CMO. Everyone wants to know how the captain and the doc got together, so they go to the source. But Jim's answers just get more and more bizarre (and may just reveal an embarrassing obsession!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lt. Commander Montgomery Scott

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after ST 09 but before ID. Also, the reference to Christine Chapel from ID never happened because it fills me with (totally mature) raaage, so this is AU as far as that is concerned!

When Cadet James Kirk saved Earth by defeating the Romulan Nero, Starfleet Command found itself in a quandary. The public embraced Kirk as no captain had been since Archer was a young man. He was handsome, well-spoken, dashing, and, given his history for insubordination, surprisingly articulate in interviews. They couldn’t expect his legions of fans to calmly accept his rightful placement as a lieutenant aboard the ship he’d led so successfully. At the same time, there were more qualified officers waiting for commands who would be denied one if they placed their flagship in the hands of a hot-headed cadet, and there were those within the Academy who still wanted him expelled rather than honored for some of his antics while he was a student. The political ramifications were nearly overwhelming. In the end, the wishes of the newly christened Admiral Pike and the mysterious support of Starfleet’s head of human resources, Admiral Akino Matsuri, combined with the ride of public attention at a time when Starfleet desperately needed new recruits to replace the staggering numbers lost at Vulcan, and the inexplicable request of the Vulcan High Council, led to the decision that Kirk should be given command of the _Enterprise_. It was generally agreed that this would be a “test run,” consisting predominately of missions close to home with relatively easy oversight. 

It was only after this decision was made and the crew being selected for the new ship – Kirk immediately requesting everyone who was aboard, including Lt. Commander Scott and Lt. Keenser – that Admiral Akino quietly dropped a bombshell on the proceedings. A number of captains were requesting crew members away from the Enterprise, with the most contested being Commander Spock and, somewhat to the surprise of those outside the medical faculty, Lt. Commander Leonard McCoy. McCoy had become something of a media darling himself, though he didn’t give interviews (the aforementioned medical faculty claimed to have no idea how the media had become interested in McCoy; everyone else at the Academy accepted this bald-faced lie with relatively little argument). Two captains other than Kirk were vying for McCoy: captains with more political pull and experience who traditionally would have gotten what they wanted. In this case, however, tiny Akino waved the requests away with a negligent hand.

“Of course McCoy is going on the _Enterprise._ He’s married to the captain.”

And so the meeting had erupted into surprised argument. Akino watched it all with sparkling amusement. “You didn’t know?” she asked innocently. “My, my. You should really spend a little more time reading the personnel files. They were married about, oh…thirty minutes before McCoy sneaked Kirk’s ass onto the _Enterprise_.” She smirked. “Young love, right? Wouldn’t want to screw that up. So, that’s the CMO’s position filled. We’ll need at least two more doctors aboard. McCoy’ll want to have a say, and we’ll need people willing to follow a man who just wrapped up his residency a year ago.”

Married starship captains, while unusual, were not unheard of in the Fleet. Most of them, however, ran stations or small rescue vessels. The big ships – _Constitution, Bradbury, Ambassador_ class vessels that housed hundreds of souls and travelled deep space and into enemy territories – were captained almost exclusively by single men and women. The demands of the job made long-term relationships nearly impossible; these captains were truly married to their ships and crews. Anyone who married a large ship’s captain could expect to have very little of his or her spouse’s time. Those captains who did marry often did so in a serial fashion, leaving a string of divorces behind them. 

Since they’d already offered Kirk the ship, the brass couldn’t back out. The _Enterprise_ ’s young captain was well on his way to breaking yet another Fleet tradition.

~~~

A starship is a small place, even when it’s still floating in drydock undergoing extensive repairs. As with all conditions which crown humans together, human drama (also known as “unmitigated gossip”) quickly becomes a backbone of interaction among the crew. Officially, of course, such behavior is frowned upon; although the starship becomes home, it is also a 24-hour place of work. Therefore, official expectations demand that everyone stay out of everyone else’s business. 

However, unofficially, there is no such thing as privacy aboard even the most sprawling and impressive of space-going vessels.

The youngest assembled crew in history, headed by a media darling who wanted to be hands-on throughout the entire ship, proved to be even nosier than seasoned crews. The information that the captain had been a truly-newlywed throughout that entire first mission spread like wildfire. That he was married to the doctor, whom everyone on board was simultaneously a little in love with and a little terrified by, only made their relationship more interesting.

As the crew got to know them, Kirk and McCoy were often asked how they “got together.” This seemingly simple question was simple if you asked the doctor, whose stock answer was, “It’s not as exciting as you think, and I’d just put you to sleep if I told you,” after which he would usually bug the asker about vaccine boosters or semi-annual physicals (senior staff and security officers on landing party rotations were put under the good doctor’s tricorder more often than other crew members). The question did become complicated, however, when directed at the ship’s captain. This was because no two people ever received the same answer, and each was more outlandish than the last.

~~~

Scotty asked first.

He and Kirk had really hit it off while stowing away on board ship with the help of a time travelling Vulcan. While Scotty fully accepted Jim as his captain – Scotty certainly didn’t want the job – off-duty they were friends. It took six months to prepare his bonny lass to head out with her new crew, and Jim had spent almost as much time aboard, poking around, as Scotty did. You had to appreciate a captain like that.

They also both liked to drink, though really, the stories of their drunken escapades were (largely) exaggerated. They were grown men with responsible jobs, after all, and Scotty never engineered under the influence.

So, when Scotty learned that he’d somehow been assigned the first officer’s quarters, then connected the dots to find this was because the as-yet-undetermined first officer would receive the captain’s quarters while the captain was bunking down with the CMO, he felt plenty comfortable enough to ask how Jim had come by such an interesting spouse. (Scotty, of course, turned down the first officer’s quarters because he wanted to be closer to engineering, where he belonged. This led to yet more shuffling, with Lt. Sulu as the lucky bastard in the first officer’s quarters, which cleared up an extra set of lieutenant’s quarters that eventually went to a pair of married enlisted engineers who otherwise would’ve been sharing a studio one step up from a closet. This action endeared Jim even more to his new chief engineer. Honestly, Scotty’s only disappointment in the lad was that Jim had come up through the piloting and navigation program, when clearly engineering was vastly superior. But no man is perfect.)

“It’s a weird story, and you’ve gotta have some background,” Jim answered from his position upside-down in a Jefferies Tube. His face was turning a bit pink, but he didn’t seem to mind it. “I was in a serious car accident a few years before I came to the Academy.”

“That why you started so late, then?” Scotty asked as he passed up a spanner, then wiggled in the tube right-side up. There was barely room to breathe.

He could hear Jim’s grin. “Not as late as Bones, but he had to do that whole double-doctorate thing first. No. See, I was in this bad car accident, and I had brain damage. It totally screwed up my short-term memory.” There was a faint _klunk_. “Did that on purpose, Scotty, no worries. There’ll be another.” _Klunk_.

Scotty fought down a shudder. He hated klunks on board his ship.

“Every morning I woke up and thought it was the day after the accident – or so I’ve been told, I don’t remember any of this, of course.” Jim’s voice bounced cheerfully off the metal walls. “I always went to this café downtown for breakfast, and one day this hot guy decides to hit on me. Apparently, we hit it off, talked for a few hours, and then parted ways with plans to meet the next day for breakfast. Except, of course, that the next day I had no idea who this idiot was and totally shot him down as a stalker when he came over to talk to me.”

Scotty was so mesmerized by the story that his hands actually stopped moving for a moment. “So that was-?”

“The owner of the café was like my aunt – my Mom’s best friend, not REALLY my aunt – so she set this guy straight,” Jim continued blithely. “Only he decided to take it as a challenge instead of a turn-off. So every morning, right? He goes to the café and he tries to strike up a conversation. Some days it worked, and some days it didn’t. My brother about had kittens when he heard about it, but then he realized that I had _fun_ on the days I ran into him, so Sam let it slide. Meanwhile, my ‘beau,’” Jim snorted at the word, “started coming up with more and more intricate plans to make sure I’d fall for him every day. He even asked me to marry him once…though I forgot about it the next day. The whole time I was keeping this diary, though, and I’d read it every morning.”

“….Ye still have that?”

“Sure. Shame to lose it. I mean, sure, I was cured later through this whole new neuro-grafting technique, but that diary’s the only link I have to those days. It went on for about seventeen months before they decided to use me as a guinea pig for brain surgery.”

Scotty was not a romantic man at heart, and he could spot blarney from twenty paces…but Jim’s matter-of-fact delivery sucked him in enough that he couldn’t call the captain on it. “And so…that guy from the café was the doctor?”

“Bones? Hell, no! Bones isn’t some creeper who hits on people with traumatic brain injuries! Bones has _ethics_.” Jim squirmed past Scotty and executed a sort of backflip to land feet-first on the floor below the tube. He grinned up at Scotty, flushed from hanging upside down for so long. “Nah. Bones was the brilliant intern who fixed my brain and then called the _police_ on that guy.”


	2. Lieutenant Nyota Uhura

Uhura was one of only two crewmembers who had actually known Kirk at the Academy (the second being Security Chief Matthews). They weren’t exactly friends, and they came up through different tracks, but they occasionally had classes together and, of course, there had been Gaila. She’d also run across Leonard McCoy in several classes, most notably the time he engaged in a heated and public argument with one of the xenobiology professors (she had thrown in on McCoy’s side and they’d carried on supporting each other’s theories over lunch; she’d found him both brilliant and slightly hilarious, and regretted not fostering the friendship later). 

Like the rest of their class, Uhura had been tangentially aware of the weird, epic friendship between “Let’s Do It!” Kirk and “My Eyeballs Will Melt Your Face!” McCoy. She’d also been much, much too up close and personal with Kirk’s bed-hopping lifestyle, since Gaila had also been a fan of friends-with-benefits situations. Hence her confusion upon learning from Chekov and Sulu that Kirk had been officially married about 15 minutes before being smuggled aboard the ship. Not to mention the clear signs that Kirk spent every night with McCoy...and that McCoy must be fairly impressive, because sometimes Kirk limped a little for a day or two, or he sat down in his nice new chair very carefully. 

Not that she allowed herself to consider those kinds of details very often. In that direction, she figured, lay madness.

Uhura knew that she needed to maintain a proper, professional relationship with Kirk because if she didn’t, she would most likely punch him in his handsome face. She was shocked to find that he actually made this fairly easy – while Kirk still flirted comfortably with most beings with a recognizable pulse, once she agreed to come back as his communication’s officer, he treated her with the same friendly respect he afforded Sulu, with whom he had bonded in the testosterone-ridden act of free jumping and kicking Romulans in the face. 

One afternoon about two months into repairs found her on the nearly-recovered bridge, running tests on the updated communications array. When Jim Kirk showed no qualms about crawling under the console since everyone else was busy and didn’t make any (overt) attempts to look up her skirt, she decided to assuage her curiosity as a prize to herself for encouraging such adult behavior in their adolescent boss.

“I know how you met,” she said, checking relays as he called out their corresponding lines, “but how did you and Leonard become involved?”

“Leonard?” Kirk curled himself into an uncomfortable-looking bow to see her. “Since when is he ‘Leonard’? …Does he call you by your first name?!”

Uhura rolled her eyes and tapped a threatening heel. The captain disappeared back under the console. “Since he said, ‘My name’s Leonard’ in one of our psychology classes. Unlike you, I prefer to remember names rather than making up new ones. Check the link for Engineering Three.”

“It’s good.”

“Thank you.” She fought down a little smirk. A good bit of the improved programming was her own work. They checked a few more before she had to admit, “I really _am_ curious. Sir.” The sir didn’t make her wince so much anymore. 

“It’s really a funny story. Not so much romantic as just amusing.” He paused long enough to ask, “You ready for the astronavigation labs?” Uhura assented and he continued, punctuating his story with lab numbers as they checked to make sure that every area of the ship could communicate with the Bridge through the Communications Station. “You remember that accident on the training mission to Titan? Astro Lab 3.”

“Check.” Uhura frowned a bit at the memory. “That was the one on the old transport, the core failed and everyone got radiation poisoning?”

“That’s the one! Bones was on that mission – one of the medics. They gave him a little extra deep-space training because he loves it so much.” Uhura had to grant him a chuckle at that one. The tales of the doctor’s first flight sims – and the subsequent required clean-up – had merrily circulated her first year at the Academy. “He got a pretty heavy dose of radiation because he’s a stubborn ass,” she cleared her throat, “ah, selfless healer and went in without all the proper gear. So of course, he ended up back at Starfleet medical undergoing treatments for over a week.

“Anytime I was in medical it wasn’t a problem, because I hacked in the system and made Bones my attending about a month after we met-”

“Why am I not surprised?” Uhura huffed. Her captain somehow managed to convey the idea of a big grin with his feet. 

“-so if I had any problems they actually _called_ him so he would come in. But this time I show up at the hospital and they told me I couldn’t see him, even though I was one of the volunteer pilots who went in and picked them up in the first place. They had a lot of people in the radiation ward, and it was family only.” Jim’s snort of derision clearly conveyed his feelings about the idea that he and Bones hadn’t already been family before they ever stepped foot on the _Enterprise_. “So I told the charge nurse that we were engaged.” 

Uhura laughed, a tinkling of refined humor that always proved contagious. She even flattered herself that Spock’s expression softened when she honestly laughed. “Did it work?”

“Sure!” She could hear the grin in the captain’s voice. “It’s not like I don’t know him well enough to fake it. Birthday, thank-goodness-you’re-divorced-day, mother’s name, favorite name for a dog, all that. I even know some of his medical history because he taught me how to read records on his. Like the whole testicle thing.” Uhura opened her mouth to ask, but caught herself. Did she REALLY want to know about the doctor’s “testicle thing”? “There were really only two problems with my master plan.”

“Only two?” Uhura asked doubtfully. “I’m sure we could think of more than that.” She paused just long enough to make a point. “Sir.”

“Hey, hey!” One hand emerged to wave at her. “No, really, it went fine at first! I got to go in and see him looking all pitiful and sickly, and hold his hand while he grumped at me about possible contagions while his system was delicate. Grumping always makes Bones feel better, so I was doing the world a service.”

“…They do say doctors make the worst patients.”

“Bones is a workaholic. Being stuck in bed makes him crazy.” He paused then amended, “crazier.” 

“So what were the ‘two’ problems?” 

“Well, there was his family. His mother loves me, you know. Who can blame her, right?”

Uhura rolled her eyes. “You are the most modest person on this planet.”

“This is completely true,” Kirk teased smoothly. “Ready for the last set?”

“Yes.” 

“All right,” Kirk continued around their last section of checks – Sickbay. Kirk was not above saving his favorite for last. “So anyway, the whole Georgian delegation shows up when I least expect it, led by the fantastic Mrs. Dr. Ella Mae McCoy, and naturally the doctor tells them all about the dashing pilot who flew Bones home and didn’t dump him after staying by his bedside listening to him complain and watching him vomit like a 20th century horror heroine.” 

“You might consider limiting details when you tell stories like this.”

“Bones’ Mom’s a doctor. Where do you think he got it from? Almost done here!” Kirk wriggled out from the console and stretched, whacking one elbow hard enough to make Uhura wince. “Well, I couldn’t tell them that it was all a lie, could I? Ella would have had my head and she’d stop sending me cookies. You’ve had her cookies, Lieutenant. You understand.”

Uhura did. Leonard’s mother had sent enough cookies for a small army three days earlier, when she’d learned that most of the crew were back on the ship, running diagnostics. She certainly wouldn’t do anything to chance never getting one of those peanut-butter-chocolate-delights Ella had sent. Even Spock had nibbled on something called a “Forgotten Cookie.” “So you figured you’d just go through with it? And Leonard bought into this?”

Kirk flashed a playfully hurt look at the use of Leonard’s first name. “Nah. Ella’d have been okay with a long engagement, though his uncle and niece kept giving me the Evil Eye. No, the problem is that I’d…ah…well…I’d lied to Starfleet to get in Bones’ room.” He shrugged sheepishly. “For some reason they frown on falsifying records, even for a really great cause. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if Bones didn’t…you know…”

“Work at Starfleet Medical?”

“Exactly! No one would have worried about it, but then it was all over the place and he couldn’t just throw me under the bus and say I’d lied. He threw up a lot and it was disgusting, he was shooting snot everywhere, and some of his hair fell out. That’s true friendship, Uhura.”

“Again with the details, Captain.”

Kirk bounced nimbly to his feet, back cracking loudly. “Then we were gonna be assigned ships, and people were really looking at our records for the first time. It was bound to raise eyebrows that we were so obviously engaged and never got married.” He actually _waggled his eyebrows at her_. “Not everyone is immune to the Kirk charm like you, Lieutenant. Who’d believe he’d keep putting off marrying this?” He motioned languidly to himself.

She let her eyes sweep slowly up his body, taking in all the details. Then she said, slowly and deliberately, “You have a dust bunny in your hair.”

He really did have a pretty infectious laugh.


	3. Ensign Pavel Chekov

“Talk to him, kid. Keep him awake. I’ve got to go see about LaSalle.”

On Chekov’s first ever away mission, the captain was seriously injured in a mud slide on New Vulcan. The ship wasn’t completely ready to head out, the brass don’t even call this supply run her new maiden voyage, but they managed to get involved in a small natural disaster. Three of the party of seven were injured, with the captain – who had thrown himself on top of the aforementioned LaSalle when a large rock headed for her and hit him instead – in the worst pain, but not with the worst injury.

They came to a stop at the bottom of a large embankment, tired and covered in mud. Dr. McCoy saw to the captain first, declared him in pain but safe – “He’s broken his leg. I’m going to give him this for the pain, then I want you to stay here with him and keep him awake in case this concussion decides to act up” – before going to see to the unconscious LaSalle. Chekov suspected LaSalle had swallowed some mud, which was why the doctor was willing to leave the doctor in Chekov’s care.

Chekov felt both strangely honored by and terrified of the trust that the doctor placed in him.

“Keptin?” he asked gently, shifting Kirk into as comfortable a position as they could muster. There was a blue science tunic folded neatly under the captain’s head, which McCoy in turn placed right in Chekov’s lap. Chekov didn’t have any delusions concerning the softness of his lap. He was a marathon runner, all whippet-muscles and hard edges. He didn’t feel qualified to act as his captain’s biobed, but he did his best. “The doctor said I am to keep you awake.”

The captain smiled hazily at him, patting ineffectually at Chekov’s arm. “I heard him, Ensign,” Kirk comforted. “You’re doin fine. Don’t let him get ya down. Wouldn’t leave me here if he didn’t trust you.”

Chekov flushed a bit at that. The young navigator knew he looked delicate – it was hard not to know, surrounded by people who were taller, older, and more solid than himself – but he wasn’t really given to blushing or being embarrassed. He was plenty smart enough and emotionally mature enough to handle himself just fine; but still, he’s pretty sure anyone would be honored at Dr. McCoy trusting him with the captain’s well-being. “Maybe talking will keep you awake? Does it hurt to talk?”

“Nah.” Kirk waved a hand. “Bones gives me the good stuff when he figures I was being dashing and heroic instead of fool hearty.” He grinned, though his skin was clammy and he looked a little green around his mouth. “Bones has a thing for heroes, you know. ‘S how we got together.”

Chekov perked up a little at this. Of course he had wondered about the relationship – he’d been the first to discover it, after all, on the way back to Earth after the Narada. He and Sulu had been quietly discussing the captain and CMO, and the fact that they had been ordering everyone else to bed without actually getting any sleep themselves (McCoy had gone so far as to make calls to every department every two hours to make sure that people were nibbling protein bars throughout the day while the replicators were down). Chekov dimly recalled hearing that McCoy had been a bit of a prodigy during his internship (Chekov noticed words like “prodigy” because they were so often applied to him, sometimes to his annoyance) and had taken a moment to look up the award the doctor had won before coming to the Academy and his residency there. He hadn’t expected to see the captain listed as the doctor’s next-of-kin, or that the wedding had apparently taken place in the one hour between Kirk’s initial suspension hearing and everyone’s assignments to ships. Chekov was already a graduate, of course, and assigned to the _Enterprise_ , but he was still impressed they’d managed to get to human resources and get an admiral to sign off in just a few minutes. “You became husbands because Dr. McCoy likes heroes?”

Kirk laughed lightly. His eyes sparkled dully, the bright blue picking up the color of McCoy’s tunic. “I like the way you say _husbands_ , Ensign.” Chekov grinned back a bit. The captain and the doctor didn’t hide their affection for each other, but they weren’t romantically demonstrative. Most of their relationship revealed itself in standing a bit too close, being a bit too protective, and, in the doctor’s case, cursing a bit more creatively. Kirk’s loopy smile at being called a “husband” proved charming. “Sure. He likes heroes. Who doesn’t? We got together because the world was going to be destroyed by a weird alien culture that dressed like cockroaches.”

Chekov’s brows drew together. “Cockroaches, sir?”

“Yeah.” The captain’s voice didn’t slur at all, but his smile stayed sloppy, and one hand waved shakily, both clear signs that the painkillers the doctor stabbed into his arm had kicked in. “See, they showed up in Egypt, at this ancient pyramid, and they took this…this stone thing. And then they used the stone things and they made a person out of them. And that person was, like, perfect.”

Chekov started to get worried. “Doctor?” he called tremulously. “The keptin is not making very much sense.”

“He rarely does!” the doctor called back, “and I gave him enough painkiller to make an elephant break into ballet! You just let him ramble. Call me if he starts getting hot, coughing up blood, or tries any inappropriate groping!” 

“Inappropriate groping?” Chekov asked, and his voice definitely didn’t squeak, because he was a mature adult who understood that some people reacted strangely to strong painkillers. He was also in “the know,” as Sulu put it, that the doctor was more bark than bite and probably would not wave a hypo in the direction of any body part the ensign allowed the captain to grope. McCoy didn’t respond because he was too busy working on LaSalle’s lungs. Chekov swallowed. “I do not believe I would care for inappropriate groping, Captain, so please continue your story.”

“Right! I was telling a story, wasn’t I? An’ a good one. About heroes.”

“And cockroach people.”

“They weren’t cockroach _people_ , Ensign,” the captain’s voice sounded firmly chiding. “Their armor was just cockroach- _like._ ”

“Of course, sir.” Chekov carefully adjusted one knee that was starting to ache a bit. “They made a . . . a perfect person?”

“Yes! A HOT perfect person! A woman, cause, you know. Ladies. Are more perfect than men.”

“I did not know this,” Chekov responded with some interest. “Are they?”

“Totally are. Except Bones, cause, like. He’s Bones.” Kirk’s words were slurring a tiny but now, but it was the strange cadence and constant use of vocal pauses that made him sound unlike himself. The captain’s way of speaking was usually fiercely confident and straightforward. “So here’s this perfect person, right? Only her memory’s kind of shot and she’s stuck wearing these sort of strappy things instead of clothes, which would totally draw way too much attention. Also she had really horrible hair. So she busts into Bones’ cab-”

Chekov wondered if he was losing something in translation. Much to his annoyance, he still didn’t think in Standard. “The doctor had a cab?”

“Sure! Why not?” Kirk looked at him seriously. “Is there some reason Bones couldn’t have a cab?”

“Um . . .” Chekov looked across the mud. “No?”

“Of course not! See! So she busts into Bones’ cab, and she’s all, ‘Humanity stinks, why do you keep killing each other and having wars and shit?’ And Bones, who tries to be a hardass but really is this total pacifist who wants to give everyone a puppy and retire because no one ever gets hurt ever, tells her hell if he knows, because people ARE pretty crappy, aren’t they? And then he performed some random miraculous surgery on a blue opera singer who was passing by because he does that.”

Chekov grew increasingly certain at this point that nothing was being lost in translation and, in fact, Kirk was making no sense whatsoever. He wished he had set his tricorder to record all this, because the more Kirk rambled, the more he suspected it would be hilarious when he wasn’t sitting in a wet, dirty hole with his injured captain’s head in his lap. “But how,” he asked logically, “did this lead to you and the doctor becoming husbands?” This time he said husbands on purpose, just to watch the captain’s mouth curve into that soft smile again. 

“Because sometimes, Ensign, you need an optimist to save the day, and Bones is many things but an optimist is not one of them. So here comes Bones, fresh out of random miracle surgery, accompanied by the hottest perfect woman ever, and Bones says, ‘She doesn’t want to save humanity because humanity is made up of idiots.’ And then, because I was totally confused, he explained that if she didn’t use her special hot superpowers, this giant gooey alien thing was going to destroy mankind.”

“That was not very nice of the giant gooey alien,” Chekov offered. He tried to hook his tricorder with his heel, but couldn’t quite reach it. He had an eidetic memory, of course, but worried that because he was tired and constantly translating in his head, he wouldn’t remember every word of this to share with Sulu and Uhura. And that would be a shame. 

“No. No it wasn’t. So I had to think of something worth saving and, well, that’s obvious right?”

Chekov considered a moment. “. . . Puppies?” he hazarded, since they had been mentioned earlier, and the doctor was apparently fond of them.

Kirk barked a laugh. “Nah. Well, yeah. Puppies are great, but no. It had to be a big concept. Something awesome. And every movie and holovid ever made will tell you that LOVE is awesome. So I decided I would just confess my giant, incredible, sexy, romantic, brilliant, and just to emphasize sexy, love for all things Bones and show her how awesome we are together. And then I KNEW she’d save the world!” He waved one shaky hand so expansively that he nearly clipped Chekov in the nose.

For a brief moment, Chekov’s well-trained brain completely turned on him and provided a mental image of the captain and the doctor demonstrating their affection in front of the “hottest perfect woman ever.” His mouth went a bit dry and he shook his head hard, something he generally avoided doing because it made his curls bounce and people coo at him. This was not an appropriate place to imagine two of the senior officers naked (there probably was not a good place anywhere, but Chekov did not believe that what he imagined in the privacy of his own quarters was anyone else’s business). “Did…did it work?”

“Are you dead?”

“No, sir.”

“Did Earth get exploded by cockroaches and/or goo people?”

Chekov was fairly certain that the phrase “get exploded” was not proper Standard. “No sir.”

Kirk grinned smugly up at him. “Then it worked, didn’t it?”

Chekov had to admit this was difficult to argue with.


	4. Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu

The people of Samarii IV were isolationists who still needed help. Specifically, they needed someone to train their pilots in shuttles the Federation had provided as part of a treaty brokered by Federation diplomats when the two indigenous species of Samarii finally accepted help after 200 years of war. The shuttles were given to both sides equally, with training programs promised as needed. Initially, the Samarii believed they could figure out the systems themselves; after a number of fatal crashes and threats from Starfleet that the replacements would dry up, the leaders of both factions agreed to allow trainers to come in. However, they did not want any large Federation ships orbiting their planet, nor did they want Federation officers staying overnight on the planet’s soil. As a result, Captain James Kirk and Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu found themselves floating above Samarii in a stripped-down shuttle with no defensive capabilities whatsoever. The mission was slated to last three weeks. 

Their days were interesting – they had to trade off groups each day, which wasn’t the most efficient way to train pilots, but was the only method both sides would agree to. Otherwise, one side might get the “better” pilot (exactly who qualified as the better pilot was a point of good-natured contention between the officers in question; in truth, Sulu was a better pilot but Kirk had more of a flair for training). They woke just before dawn in their respective areas, worked 10 hour days, then headed home before nightfall. Because of differences in time zones, Kirk and Sulu’s sleep cycles were a mess and they were aboard ship together only about six hours at a time. 

They contacted the _Enterprise_ daily. Most days, the captain checked in with Spock while Sulu chatted with Uhura. The ship’s crew was staying busy while her captain and lead pilot floated above Samarii. Spock and the astronavigation department were taking the opportunity to map a nearby nebula; Scotty and the engineers were running diagnostics; McCoy and Sickbay were catching up on research; Chekov and the other helm personnel were running sims ; Uhura was working on updating the inbedded translator software; even maintenance and cooking was experimenting with new programs for the replicators. Spock’s reports were predictably exhaustive, but Kirk always listened to them patiently, even asking questions as he read over the associated files. Sulu’s conversations with Uhura were more about chatting and less about work. Uhura was very impressed that Sulu had managed to live in small conditions with the captain for two weeks without anyone coming to blows. Sulu just rolled his eyes and laughed, because he knew she was growing genuinely fond of the captain. Besides, the doctor had survived eight months in close quarters with Kirk, and no pilot can let himself be outmanned by the CMO, even an admittedly badass one.

On day fifteen of training, an exhausted Sulu beamed up to find Kirk at the small communication console in the back of the shuttle rather than talking to Spock on the main screen. As long as they left from the same spots each day they didn’t have to wake each other for beam-out, so Sulu had expected the captain, whose day had started four hours before the pilot’s, to be asleep. However, Sulu materialized on the tiny transport pad to the sound of Kirk’s voice, soft, amused, and infinitely fond. 

“You can’t tell admirals to perform physically impossible sexual acts, even when they deserve it. You know I’d miss you once you were court martialed and sent off to a rehabilitation colony for rounds of song therapy and hand-holding.”

Sulu didn’t try to fight back a grin, even though he felt suddenly that he might be intruding. The captain and the doctor never pretended to have a standard working relationship, but people who didn’t know they were married probably wouldn’t pick up on the fact from their day-to-day contact. Now though, the tone of the captain’s voice was unfamiliar and warm, and he hadn’t been in the same room with his spouse for over two weeks. They’d probably appreciate some privacy. Sulu couldn’t offer much. The shuttle was one room, after all. He settled for sitting at the main pilot’s seat and poking at some of the scenarios Chekov had sent him to check over. Sulu was good at throwing in surprises for piloting sims. 

The doctor grumbled something back about the captain using his health as blackmail. Kirk laughed. “I use what works, Bones. It’s called tactical genius.” 

“I’m gonna buy you some modesty at the next station, Jim.” The doctor always had a nice voice, but now it thrummed and drawled with humor (Sulu might possibly have a thing for voices). “Best way to keep me from sayin’ anything is to get back on board where you belong.”

Kirk released the smallest of sighs, his fingers twitching toward the small screen. “We’ll wrap up here soon. They’re not bad, really. They had the basics, they were just pushing too hard toward advanced flight.” 

“I don’t like you up there without any sort of protection.” McCoy’s voice sounded gruff. Sulu sensed an old argument.

“This from the man who passed basic self-defense by setting bones after class instead of breaking them. We’re fine, Doctor. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Sulu could imagine the eyebrow arching. “Hard to believe, seein’ as how I’ve already noticed.” 

There was a silence a moment, then a soft, “I’ve noticed too, Bones. Listen, go ahead and send that report – without the invitations for self-fellatio – and get some rest. I can tell you’ve been up on this project for at least 15 hours, and I bet Chapel’s been right there with you. I’ll see you in a few days.” 

“Damn straight you will. Probably fried half your internal organs pressed up against a warp core like that for days. You tell Sulu I’ll be seeing him in Sickbay as soon as you’re aboard too. And get some rest! You take the Geradin if you need it, damn irresponsible sleep schedule they’ve got you two on. You’ll get a few hours decent sleep with that.”

“Yes, sir, Doctor. Kirk out.” Kirk turned and stretched expansively, groaning as he twisted his back. Sulu’s ached in sympathy. Days bent over piloting boards in small shuttles wasn’t like being on the _Enterprise_ with her ergonomically designed chairs. The Samarii also averaged about 5’ tall, so nothing fit quite right for the two humans. “Maybe when he pokes and prods us, he’ll hand out massages. He’s good at those, and one of the reasons he brought Nurse Davies is because he’s had a lot of training.”

Sulu swung around and grinned across at his captain. “I wouldn’t say no. Davies has magic fingers, though I’ve never thought about Dr. McCoy being that hands-on with people.” Sulu weighed his next words. Kirk wasn’t as distant as Pike was as captain, but they weren’t quite friends, either. He discarded his more colorful comments concerning the doctor being “hands on” and settled on, “He worries about you a lot.”

Kirk snorted. “Bones worries about everybody. He just doesn’t want anyone to know it. I’m pretty sure 90% of his decision we should date was so he would have free reign to worry about me whenever he wanted.” 

Sulu was very focused on his career, but he still considered several members of the crew as friends. Chief among these were Uhura and Chekov, and he had heard both their versions of how the captain and the doc got together. A naturally wicked sense of humor made him ask, “How exactly did that come about, sir?”

Kirk tossed him an amused glance that clearly communicated that Sulu’s attempt at sounding casual had failed, but he didn’t miss a beat. “At the Mr. Terra pageant.” 

Sulu had foolishly elected to take a sip of coffee, which he promptly coughed up. After a little wheezing, he asked, “Mr. Terra, sir?”

“Yep! See, I was an undercover contestant at Mr. Terra as part of my special tactics training.” 

Sulu purposefully clicked his mouth closed, because he knew he was staring. “Why would anyone have to be an undercover contestant at Mr. Terra?” Mr. Terra was generally known as one of the most ridiculous Earth customs still actively celebrated every year. Men from all over the world would doll up and strut their stuff for a group of largely female judges who would judge them on personality, talent, and their ability to look good in evening wear and a bathing suit. There was a pretty heavy emphasis on the evening wear and bathing suit categories. Only 100% human males were allowed to compete (gender, not sex), and the event was a huge draw for alien species who liked to come to Earth and watch quaint human rituals up close and personal.

“Because there were threatening letters.” Kirk crossed to the little alcove where they’d set up a proper coffee pot instead of using the replicator, plucking Sulu’s mug from his hand on the way by. “A group claiming to be homegrown terrorists threatened to release a biological agent at the pageant that would murder the contestants.”

Sulu thanked Kirk as the captain handed his mug back, then went to prepare one his own cup. There was a dollop of milk, not cream, just like Sulu made it himself. The captain’s attention to detail never failed to astonish him. “Why would anyone bother murdering a bunch of men showing off their abs and ability to sing opera?”

“Not everyone sings opera. There’s also been dancing, high diving, various martial arts, speed painting, and one memorable year, a man whose sole talent was not showing pain when someone kicked him in the nuts. Though, personally, I think it’s more impressive that he was a father of two.” Sulu winced at the thought. “As to why, even though most humans laugh at it, there’s a lot of media around Mr. Terra. It’s all in good fun and the tourists eat it up. If something was released in the venue, it’s not just the contestants who would be in danger, but the audience too.” Kirk took his coffee with a pretty heavy dose of sugar and a splash of cream. 

“So . . . instead of cancelling it-”

“Too many tourism dollars.”

“Or sending in an experienced security team-”

“Have you SEEN guys from security? They are not pretty, Lieutenant.” 

Sulu didn’t argue that, though he had seen his share of very attractive security officers. He liked athletic builds. “They sent in you?”

Kirk nodded. “Me and Bones, that is. Bones tried to weasel out of tactics even though he’s not half-bad at it, but he’d agreed to get enough command courses so he could be CMO someday. Of course, he was still insisting at that point that he wasn’t setting foot on a starship.” Kirk smirked fondly and blew across the surface of his coffee, sending gentle ripple to the opposite rim before taking a sip. “Since the threat specified a biological attack, it made sense to have a doctor along. He came as my trainer, which meant he got to yell at me a lot, and that made him happy.”

Sulu was enjoying the story. This was probably his favorite rendition so far, though he knew he was biased. He was already thinking of it as _his_ special captain/doctor origin story. “How did it go?”

“Fine. No real problems. It turned out they were planning to fire the woman who’d been running the thing for years – mainly because she was an insane nutjob who kept making the contestants cry – so she’d set the whole thing up to get media attention and up the ratings. Only it didn’t work because the pageant owners decided to keep it quiet and just bring in a ringer. The only problem was that I was only guaranteed a spot into the top ten, so if I wanted in the final five I had to actually get good scores.” Kirk grinned. “So I put on my suit, shook my stuff, blew away everybody with my talent-”

“Which was?”

“Well, it was supposed to be playing the guitar, but my guitar met with an…unfortunate…accident. So I switched over to basic self-defense. Everybody needs to know how to defend himself, anyway. I got to throw Mr. France over my head twice. He was a good sport about it.” He paused thoughtfully. “I wanted to demonstrate on Bones, but he didn’t trust me.” Kirk made an exaggeratedly injured face. 

“Mm-hmm. I guess you must have foiled the plot, since I didn’t hear about it on the news.”

“That was all Bones. While I was on stage, flipping people around and emphasizing the importance of blows to the nose and nuts, Bones sneaked around, located the poison, which they’d hidden in the celebratory champagne that’s popped open at the end of the show, removed it, and turned in the manager.” He paused a moment. “I came in second. I lost to this redhead with batons.” He said batons in a way that implied their use might have been pornographic.

Sulu snorted. “So, I get that you had this undercover mission, but…you didn’t tell me how that led to you and the doc becoming an item.”

Kirk clearly attempted to raise one eyebrow and failed spectacularly. After a little dancing, they both went up. “I was wearing evening wear, Lieutenant.”

Sulu’s own brows drew together in mild confusion. “…And?”

“And what? It was me. In evening wear. Bones is tough and stubborn, but he’s not blind.” Kirk winked. “Why do you think I finagled him into the mission in the first place?”

Sulu couldn’t hold in his laugh at that.


	5. Commander Spock

Spock did not ask how the captain – how _Jim_ and the good doctor developed a romantic relationship. He was certainly aware of their marital status – as first officer under a married captain, he had an additional responsibility to make sure that the captain maintained proper focus, especially in situations where the doctor’s life was in danger. Since Jim preferred to lead missions and bring the doctor along instead of remaining aboard, Spock had many opportunities to study the captain and doctor’s interactions within their first months of active missions. Since he had seen no indications that their status as spouses stood in the way of completing these missions, Spock felt no need to further explore the intricacies of Kirk and McCoy’s relationship.

However, the cap – Jim was determined that the he and Spock should build a filial relationship, and this included engaging in occasional “small talk.” Jim was surprisingly good about not trying to force confidences from Spock (though his expressions when Nyota and Spock were together outside of a professional setting loudly broadcasted his desire to do so), but he had no reticence about sharing tidbits of information about his own life. Had Spock been more adept at reading humans and relationships, he would have seen that the bits and bobs Jim shared were very simple, the sorts of things humans discussed with acquaintances rather than the sorts of conversations reserved for close friends. Since he was not, he did not realize that Jim was adroitly and gradually introducing him to human friendship.

Spock received his version of the “how we got together” tale while he and Jim were in one of the three isolation rooms off Sickbay. They had come into contact with alien plant spores which, to Jim’s disappointment, were not the fabled (and most likely nonexistent) sex pollen, but instead caused a mild rash and a faint feeling of intoxication. Since Dr. McCoy did not want the pollen released into the ship’s atmosphere, he had both of them beamed up to the isolation room, where they were instructed to strip, shower, dress in provided scrubs, and spend 6 hours being monitored. Jim had given in to this treatment with a minimum of fuss, most likely due to the inebriating effect of the pollen. 

If he was honest with himself, and he generally tried to be, Spock would admit that he also felt a bit . . . mellow. He retained enough of his faculties to put forth an illusion of his usual emotional control, though he later suspected he had been less successful than he thought. Otherwise, Jim would not have chosen such a ridiculous story to tell. The captain was generally talented at “reading” his audience.

“Bones,” Jim informed him as they played cards at a small table in the middle of the room, “is a very aesthetically pleasing individual.”

They were playing Five Card Draw, a form of gambling which Spock found less than stimulating, but which Jim said would teach him a lot about people and their “tells” if he would master the game. Spock asked for two cards and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I believe that aesthetics differ not only among species, but also among individuals. On Vulcan, physical appearance is de-emphasized in favor of intellectual compatibility. Humans are, by their nature, a more visual species, but even among human individuals there seems to be some disagreement about what constitutes physical attractiveness.”

“While that’s usually true, Spock,” Kirk slid the cards across to him, “in Bones’ case, I’m pretty sure it’s indisputable.”

Spock began to rearrange his cards in his hands, but stopped at a sharp look from the captain. Apparently true players did not indulge in this behavior. “Are there not humans who find only members of the female gender sexually attractive?” 

Jim rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying everyone who wants to meet him wants to _jump_ him, Spock. But really, look at biological imperatives – he’s tall, he’s broad-shouldered, his body is strong and fit, and he’s intelligent. Those are positive traits for the survival of possible offspring. I think a lot of people – there, I’m qualifying it for you – like looking at him.” He paused a moment and laid out his cards. Spock sighed and laid out his own. He was once again defeated. Jim tsked and handed him the deck. “Here, you shuffle this time. We really need to play this with more people so you can see what I mean about watching for tells.” Jim’s quick eyes watched Spock’s hands as he neatly parted and shuffled the cards. The repetitive movement was somewhat soothing. “Oh! I can even prove that Bones is attractive to a lot of people. Did you know he worked as an escort to help pay his way through college?”

“Basic needs and amenities are offered free of charge on Earth,” Spock said calmly as he flicked cards between them. “Also, education is-”

“Sure, sure, basics. But people aren’t guaranteed two doctorates, Spock, and even now interns aren’t paid anything. If Bones wanted more than the basics, he needed a job, but he worked crazy hours between school and his internship, so that’s how he ended up working as an escort.”

Spock was unfamiliar with the terminology. “Is an escort a member of the security profession? While the doctor has a well-maintained physique, his combat skills are somewhat lacking.” Spock had attempted to ascertain if this was due to a lack of training or lack of willingness to do harm; he had perused the doctor’s Academy transcript, and McCoy had successfully passed his basic combat coursework. Generally, the captain did not allow the doctor to become involved in physical altercations, so Spock had not been able to definitively determine the cause for McCoy’s weak defense skills.

Jim let out a little bark of laughter, then obviously tried to stifle it in case he hurt Spock’s feelings. Spock, naturally, was not in danger of petulance because he did not understand human terminology. This was especially true when talking to Jim. Although not as given to the habit as McCoy, Jim did tend to use words in ways contrary to their literal meaning. “No, ah,” he coughed into his hand. “No, Spock. An escort is someone who . . . provides companionship for a fee. This can range from something simple, similar to a date, to something higher-class, like corporate dinners where you want to make connections.”

“It is my understanding that during the time of his internship at Atlanta General, Dr. McCoy was married.”

Jim snorted. “Yeah, well. Not the…whole time. And she was a student too, right? So money. Still a good thing.” 

The story was patently false and illogical at its core, and yet Spock allowed it to continue. He would later see this as a sign that he suffered more effects from the spores than he had initially believed. He also knew that Nyota would be disappointed if he did not have the full narrative to share with her at a later time. “I am uncertain why the doctor would need or choose to take on the role of a paid companion, but I defer to your knowledge of his nature. I will take two cards.”

“You _always_ take two cards.”

Spock did not dignify this with an answer. He simply calculated the odds for the best hand. “How does the doctor’s job as an escort prove that he is attractive to various humans and not just to you?”

“Because I hired him.” Jim grinned triumphantly. “I hired him for a dinner with my uncle’s corporate contacts. They’re in pharmaceuticals, so I asked the company he worked for if they had anyone with some medical know-how. They said they did, and ponied up Bones, who also looked very, VERY nice in a tux.” The expression on Jim’s face could best be described, Spock decided, as “dreamy,” an emotionally-laden adjective he did not completely understand. “So I hired him and brought him along as Uncle Frank’s date.” 

“He was not your date?”

“I don’t have to _hire_ dates, Spock. Well,” he quickly amended, “not usually. At the dinner, Bones not only managed to eviscerate this blowhard Frank’s business partner had brought along with the power of his medical knowledge alone, he also accidentally threw escargot across the room and looked really good doing it.” The grin returned. “So I hired him exclusively for the next week.”

“Where did you find the funds to hire him? I would assume that a reputable escort service such as you have described would charge according to the qualifications of the escort. A well-educated, young doctor who is generally considered attractive by your species would therefore be expensive.” Spock raised an eyebrow, “Unless there was a deduction for his use of colorful language in sensitive business situations.”

For a moment, Jim stared at him. Then the captain burst out laughing. Although Jim came across as a generally affable person, it was rare to see him throw his head back and laugh as many other humans did. Spock was sufficiently inebriated to find some measure of satisfaction in being the one to make his friend respond so; though the joke had been (largely) unintentional. “I had some money. Came into it when I was 21, and he was worth every penny.” Jim lifted his water glass and clinked it against Spock’s. “I wined and dined him, dragged him out to Frank’s country club, listened to him bitch his way through an entire polo match, rented him a couple of great suits, and generally showed him a good time when he was determined to be both professional and grouchy. By the end of the week, when I defended his honor against one of Frank’s sleazeball associates, he was ready to put up with me even when the money ran out.”

“ . . . If you had not placed Dr. McCoy in situations with your uncle’s associates, his honor would not have been in danger,” Spock pointed out. “Therefore, your defense of it – which, given previous stories you have told me, probably involved fisticuffs – was necessitated by your own behavior and choices of romantic venues.”

Jim blinked at him. “Well. Yes. But-”

“It seems more likely that the doctor would become enamored of you if you allowed him to heal your wounds after an accident or altercation. My understanding of Dr. McCoy, while limited, indicates that he is most endeared to those he must care for medically.”

Jim’s jaw dropped a bit, “How in the world did you figure that out-?”

“And I believe that he would be an extremely poor candidate for an escort program because he is given to speaking his mind, which would be an undesirable trait in someone who is supposed to make his client ‘look good,’ as I believe the phrase goes.”

There was silence for a beat, and then Jim said, “Spock.”

“Yes, Captain?”

The captain shook his head slowly as a small smile played on his lips. “I can never quite decide if you are no fun at all, or if you have the slyest sense of humor in history.”

Spock did not blink. “As a Vulcan, I do not have a sense of humor.”

 _“Exactly,_ ” Jim agreed, and pointed at him.


	6. Nurse Christine Chapel

Christine Chapel finally learned the truth.

Despite Leonard’s general rumbling to the contrary, the majority of away missions went off without any major catastrophes. The crew knew what they were doing, the captain could usually charm his way out of serious trouble, and the command-trifecta of captain, first officer, and doctor generally came up with a safe way for everyone to survive missions in one piece. However, there were still missions that went bad, and the one on Regulus III certainly qualified. No one died, but everyone had come back with injuries. The worst this time around wasn’t the captain, though, it was the doctor. Leonard McCoy was trapped in a biobed in his own Sickbay while an osteo-regenerator worked to restore his shattered femur.

Leonard wasn’t the horrible patient most people suspected. He was horrible when the _captain_ was a patient, grumping around and refusing to leave Sickbay until Kirk was completely up and about, but on his own he wasn’t too bad. Although he always insisted on poking through his own charts, he trusted his staff. He wouldn’t exactly _relax_ – man was a workaholic, and had admitted once to Chapel that, yes, that was part of the reason his first marriage didn’t make it (she figured workaholics married to each other worked better) – but he would do paperwork, sip tea (not coffee), and generally shoot the breeze when Sickbay was quiet. After M’Benga and Chapel sent everyone else home, including a reluctant Kirk, Christine decided to just pop the question and have it out there.

“All right, Leonard. I’m attempting this because you’re still a bit high on painkillers.” Her statement earned her a semi-inquisitive eyebrow but no grumbling. Christine was generally a direct person, and Leonard appreciated that. “How did you and the captain get together?”

“It’s not as exci-”

Christine gave him a look. While she didn’t have the sort of eyebrow control her boss managed, she had her own arsenal which was plenty effective. “We’ve all heard that one. We’ve also heard about the time you saved the captain from amnesia, when he faked an engagement to get into your sickroom,” she was counting off on her fingers, “how the two of you saved the world with the power of the element of love, when he hired you as a ‘long-term date’-“

Leonard coughed up a bit of the cookie he was having with his tea. He had a serious weakness for cookies, though Chapel considered herself sworn to secrecy on that point. “He said I was a _prostitute?!”_

“Escort. Higher class.” Christine had to laugh at the doctor’s expression, which somehow managed to both accept this insanity and be clearly pissed off about it. “And…oh, the time you went under cover and fell for his incredible innate ‘hotness’ during the Mr. Terra pageant. But really . . . Doctor. Everyone knows you were friends at the Academy. Uhura says she _watched_ you meet for the first time on the shuttle in from the Iowa Shipyards. So how did you go from being friends to getting married five minutes before sneaking him on board the _Enterprise?”_

Leonard finished cleaning up the scattered side effects of choking on cookie crumbs and said, “You know this is going to blow all these grandiose ideas everyone keeps building up out of the water.”

Christine patted his hand. “If it’ll break too many hearts, I’ll keep it to myself.”

Leonard shrugged. “Just Jim’s. But, fine.” Leonard raised his eyes and gazed at Christine with great seriousness. His eyebrows indicated that at this point they were Not Playing. “This is the truth, Nurse Chapel: I asked him on a date.”

“…What?” Christine frowned.

“I asked him on a date. We’d known each other since the shuttle to San Francisco, which I'm sure Uhura has told everyone. He’d been tomcatting around, being Jim, the first two years, but he’d really backed off fifth semester and started focusing on his classes. He had to, since he was loading up so much. So I said, ‘We should go on a date.’ He said yes. And that’s what happened.”

Christine’s own eyebrows rose together. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What was your first date?” she asked hopefully. Surely such an epic romance didn’t start with dinner and a holovid. She hoped.

Leonard quirked a small smile and his eyes softened. “Hamburgers by the bay. Then we went to see some horrible 20th century romantic comedy he’d been yammering about.”

“A romcom? Really?”

“Yes, really, lord, woman. He is _addicted _to those things, though I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone because it’s damn embarrassing.” He adjusted the cover over his lap a bit. “Then we went home to our _separate_ dorms.” __

“Separate dorms.” Christine knew every ounce of doubt showed in her voice. 

The smile spread a bit, mischievously. “I don’t put out on first dates, Chapel.” 

Christine was quiet a moment. Then she said, “You’re right.” 

“Hmm?” 

“That is _fantastically_ boring.” 

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Maybe next time you’ll decide to believe me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This can exist in the same universe as "Deck the Bones," which is an older piece. I am currently playing around with cassiopeia13 with the concept of writing how this "shotgun" marriage took place (which was followed by possibly the worst honeymoon in history).
> 
> Also, by a couple of requests, here are the movies Jim rewrote for his convenience:  
> Scotty: 50 First Dates  
> Uhura: While You Were Sleeping  
> Chekov: The Fifth Element (not a romcom, clearly, but Jim was on painkillers, so we forgive him)  
> Sulu: Miss Congeniality  
> Spock: Pretty Woman

**Author's Note:**

> [Blanket Permission Statement](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/permission)


End file.
